


Again and Again

by TKipani



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post Episode 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKipani/pseuds/TKipani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nighttime is for tears, memories, and comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Again and Again

Shiro took walks when the lights went out in the Castle of Lions. He liked to call them patrols, but at the core, they were just walks to let his mind wander to places far from Zarkon’s reach.

The walks began because of restless aches in his legs and one too many flashbacks, but they soon became routine: something that felt right.

He would walk down the corridors that held the small rooms of each paladin first, then the training room (which he, on more than one occasion, would stop and spar a round or two), the dining hall, the kitchen, and the central control room.

The more and more he walked, the further his legs would carry him until he was exhausted enough to find his way back into his room and collapse into his bed for a welcome dreamless sleep. He enjoyed discovering the new rooms around the castle. He had learnt of at least two other infirmaries, another training room, some sort of abandoned workshop that he’d be sure to tell Hunk and Pidge about, countless empty bedrooms, and an empty hall with a large paneled glass wall that allowed a dazzling view of the passing stars.

Childishly, Shiro began giving the rooms stories. For example, one extravagant bedroom was given to a war hero general after his triumphant return and one hallway of small rooms was assigned to a platoon of squires with big dreams of one day serving King Alfor.

The made-up stories would give him momentary reprise from the reality of his circumstances. They would take him far, far away, which was pretty ironic considering that he already _was_ far, far away from everything that he knew.

A faint pitter-patter from down an empty hallway brought Shiro back. He was no longer a curious young man wandering an alien civilization’s castle. He was Leader of Team Voltron: The Black Paladin, ready to defend his sleeping teammates. Instinctively, he lowered his body and moved swiftly to a wall, pressing himself against it to erase his presence. His fingers clenched and unclenched in an effort to control his rising adrenaline.

The footsteps moved away from him, and Shiro quietly followed behind them. The dim lighting of the all too dark castle only helped keep him from bumping into walls; he couldn’t identify anything about the mysterious figure walking about thirty feet in front of him.

Hallway after hallway, turn after turn, the lights and rooms began to look familiar to Shiro. His steps were cut short as he watched the figure walk into the room that was no doubt their destination. Shiro scratched the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed that he had followed them like they were some sort of criminal. Gently, he walked forward until he was face to face with the large metallic door of the room that he never once entered before a few days ago to clean up some glass.

He contemplated walking away and going back to his room. The next day he could pretend as though he never saw anything. But, he knew he couldn’t. Would she be surprised? Would she resent him for interfering?

He opened the door with a press of a button.

The room that once held King Alfor’s memories was about as dark as he remembered. Coran told Shiro that it wasn’t always like that. Shiro had caught the older Altean sneaking into the room after the incident with the corrupted memories. When Shiro asked him what he was doing, Coran forlornly answered, ‘to clean’. Shiro offered to help him and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The room was just as dark as that day, with only the lights on the walkway leading to the center console to illuminate.

At the meticulously cleaned center stood Allura with her back facing the door that Shiro had just walked through. But this was not the Allura that Shiro had come to know.

At the center of the room stood a mourning young woman with slumped shoulders. Her head was hung low and her hands clenched at her chest. She must have not heard the door slide open, but she most certainly heard it close. She jumped at the sound and let out the smallest squeak, which actually could have been a sob.

Shiro’s eyebrows knit together as he began having second thoughts about intruding. The princess stayed silently frozen. Shiro opened his mouth to say something (anything) when he shut it. He witnessed Allura transform. She pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. Her hands lowered from her chest to her waist, and she stood with soundless dignity.

She was not a mourning daughter but was once more Princess Allura: Princess of Altea and one of two only surviving Alteans in the known universe.

Allura turned to greet Shiro with a diplomatic smile.

Shiro wanted to ask her what she was doing up or what she was doing here, but he didn’t really have any right to ask anyone why they were awake so late and he knew very well what she was doing in here. He kept his mouth shut and only watched the princess with kind eyes.

Allura’s smile stretched as she stepped down the walkway toward Shiro. In moments, she was standing no less than three feet in front of him. Shiro continued to watch her, but even as she stood in front of him, she made no indication of wanting to speak.

In a strange rush of assurance, Shiro took a half step forward and offered Allura his right elbow. Stunned, Allura’s smile began to slip.

“May I escort you back to your room?”

It was a line from a movie that Shiro had once watched years ago as a young child. The plot was something along the lines of a successful gentleman thief planning on seducing a princess to steal an expensive, royal gem from her family, but he in turn falls in love with the princess and begins to rethink his objective. Shiro’s mind was already unnecessarily drawing connections.

“What has gotten into you?”

Shiro was actually expecting a scoff or a snort or maybe a small laugh if it were not for the princess’s tired eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Instead, he received her light tone of voice (maybe even slightly joking?) and her soft hand slipping into the crook of his elbow.

Swallowing, Shiro didn’t think about what he would do if he got this far. He supposed he would begin with walking Allura back to her room.

Carefully, he began to turn his body toward the door. For a moment, Allura didn’t move. Shiro spared the princess a glance, presuming that she may be taking an instant to look back at the center platform. Instead, she seemed to be composing herself. Not long after, she was turning with Shiro. The duo made their way out of the room with no more stops.

Shiro didn’t realize how silent the walk had been until they had reached Allura’s door. Sure it wasn’t a long walk to begin with, but now the guilt in Shiro’s stomach was starting to pile. Should he have said something to her during their walk? Something funny? Something comforting?

Allura’s hand slid off his arm. She turned to him with a gentle smile, a real one this time. Bowing her head slightly, she thanked him.

Shiro’s thoughts went back to that movie that he had quoted earlier. At this point in the movie, the princess opened up to the thief, explaining that she was having trouble sleeping. Without missing a beat, the thief smoothly offered her another alternative to sleeping: something that would surely ‘tire her out’. With a giggle, the princess led the thief into her bedroom where they proceeded to get _very_ cozy. At least that’s what Shiro assumed had happened. He had been watching the movie with his parents, and his mother had gasped indignantly and covered his eyes from anything that would have tainted his childish mind.

Allura was already turning away when Shiro took a brash step forward. “Princess,” he called out barely above a whisper. Something about the darkness of the castle made talking at a normal volume seem inappropriate.

With an inquisitive eyebrow raised, Allura spun to face him. The darkness, the whispers, and the proximity made Shiro understand the intimacy of the whole situation.

“Allura,” he gasped.

Very intimate.

Allura’s expression melted from confusion to shock. Her eyes widened and her mouth went slightly slack causing her lips to part.

“Sh…” Allura’s gaze dropped her clenched hands in front of her. She sucked in a breath. “Shir-”

“Takashi.”

Once again, Allura was looking up at Shiro with complete astonishment. Shiro tightened his hands into fists to keep himself from cupping her face between his fingers.

“Shiro is just a shortened version of my last name. Takashi is my birth name.” He wondered if he sounded like he was babbling.

Allura’s bottom lip quivered. Her multicolored eyes began to shine with tears. “Ta-Taka…” The last syllable of his name formed on her lips but no sound came out. She bowed her head, allowing her long hair to cover her face before Shiro could witness tears flow down her cheeks. With a choked sob, Allura took a small step forward and rested her forehead against Shiro’s right shoulder.

Shiro watched with a rush a helplessness as Allura sobbed onto his shoulder. Even as she physically leaned on him for support, it felt lonely: distant. The only part of her touching him was her forehead. The rest of her body was a calculated distance away from him: diplomatic.

Biting his lip, he figured he would apologize later for his rudeness. In one quick motion, Shiro slid his left arm around her waist while his other entangled itself into her hair. As Allura’s body hit his, her sobs became more violent and strained. Shiro could clearly feel a moist wetness reaching his shoulder through his shirt.

Allura stifled her cries by bunching up Shiro’s shirt to cover her face completely. A fleeting thought entered her mind telling her that she would have to offer to clean it for him, but it was swiftly washed away by the feeling of Shiro’s fingers rubbing soothing circles into her waist and scalp.

Shiro pressed his cheek against the top of Allura’s head, pulling her as tightly against him as possible without hurting her. His body shook with every sob and his chest vibrated with the thumping of his own heart. He wasn’t sure how long they had stayed like that, but when Allura’s cries began to soften, Shiro loosened his hold. Pulling away just enough to glance down at her, Shiro felt an impulsive boldness swell in him. He planted a kiss on her forehead as she hiccupped through her sobs.

As he pulled away, Shiro pondered if she, an Altean, would even understand the meaning behind such a gesture. If she would understand any of this. But, the small tear-stained smile she gave him before burrowing her face into the crook of his neck gave him hope.

Shiro realized that he had fallen in love with the Altean Princess not long ago, but now he knew that he was also in love with the Mourning Daughter and the Heartbroken Woman who he never wanted to see cry like this again.

“I’m right here,” he whispered into her hair. And he repeated it again and again and again.

**Author's Note:**

> I have about three other Shallura fics that I started and then I powered this out in one night. Oops.
> 
> I realized lately that my fics are a little dialogue-heavy, so I wanted to try something with as little as possible. 
> 
> These two are going to be the death of me honestly.
> 
> Cheers~


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